


Deleted Scene: The Four Fathers

by paladin_cleric_mage



Series: My Heroes Had the Heart [8]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladin_cleric_mage/pseuds/paladin_cleric_mage
Summary: Week of June 16th, 1985Corresponds to chapters 62, 63.





	Deleted Scene: The Four Fathers

The closer they get to Max’s hospital room the heavier he reacts, until he’s blubbering and admitting to the sheriff that he’s not up for it. No way he can stand to see Max hooked up to beeping machines and liquid sacks, her chest plugged and wrapped, sleeping the heavy sleep of those grazing death. No way he’ll see her before she’s awake and lively.

Even as he says it he thinks,  _ You’re dumber’n hell, Rick. That’s your daughter in there, you go see her _ . Then Sheriff Hopper is assuring him it makes sense. He lost a daughter a few years back, said witnessing her waste away made it that much harder. Either lose her and let him grieve or revive her and let him raise a child. Of course Rick’s hesitant to see Max, unless she’s awake. Why get his hopes up only to bury her days later?

“Thank you, Sheriff. Ever since I started in A.A., this sorta stuff’s been touchy.”

The man nods appreciatively, like he understands more than he’s willing to let on. “How long you been sober?”

“Court mandated after I got caught drunk on my bike in November, so…” He calculates. “A little over six months.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Couldn’t appreciate it at the start, but around month three I went from resentin everyone in the room to actually listenin.”

“Heard a stranger tell your story?”

“How’d you guess?”

The answer is a knowing smile.

* * *

Wednesday night, the sheriff brings him to a meeting. Topic meeting-- tonight’s topic is  _ let go and let God _ . Easier said than done, and he shares as much. Still new to the program, Rick’s got a hard time believing there’s truly a power out there greater than him, that not only can restore him to sanity, but also guide him through life’s trials and tribulations. Losing his ex-wife to a bullet, and potentially losing his only child, well. Certainly those don’t seem God-given gifts.

In spite of himself he listens, and hears righteous things. Afterward he’s approached by a slim, modest man with a mustache who introduces himself as Scott. Scott asks if he’s new around here, and Rick shares about his situation. The sheriff draws up beside them with two styrofoam cups of coffee, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Whoever’s cleaning the ashtrays in this quaint church basement has their work cut out.

As Scott listens his face brightens, and he gives up his own anonymity to say he was Max’s science teacher this year. She’s a remarkable student. Rick is proud to hear this, though it does hurt. To think he’s plucking his girl from a school she just got settled in. What if she doesn’t want to go with him? She’s in no position to refuse, but what if this kills her spirit? If there’s one curse to being sober, it’s developing a conscience that allows thoughts like these to rise and flow. Means he has to feel things, where before he was able to stay numb.

* * *

It’s Rick’s idea to get together with the boy’s uncles Thursday afternoon. He never did meet them. First time for everything, right? They’re as good of folk as any; hearty Christian men from Irish stock. The four fathers sit together around a table in the local diner. Waitress carries over a round of coffees. Troye pours cream until it’s beige, Ryan takes his black, the sheriff gives his mug a splash so it’s still plenty bitter, and Rick stirs in packet after packet until he’s got coffee flavored sugar.

Funny, the idiosyncrecies. Reflected in them, reflected in their children. Rick asks about Ryan and Troye, what their lives are like in California, how their kids are doing. Successfully, is the answer. They’re successful. Supposedly flying in tomorrow for the wake, leaving Saturday after the burial. Weren’t close to their Uncle Neil, though. Apparently nobody was.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Rick ventures, after the waitress has placed down the final dish at their table. Again Rick notices the differences in meal choice.

“Us, too,” Troye says. “We’re sorry about your daughter. She should never have seen the way he treated Billy, or what he did to that poor friend of his.”

“Steve,” Sheriff Hopper says.

“Steve.”

Rick considers what Max was exposed to. “Maybe she shouldn’t have seen it, but she’s a tough girl.”

Everyone agrees.

“What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ryan forks sausage with a piece of scrambled. “Who, Neil?”

“His boy. I’m curious, how he set such a colossal goatfuck into action.” Troye chuckles, while Ryan’s brows raise. Rick pardons himself. “I don’t mean any offense by it. Just callin it as it is.”

“And you’re right,” Troye says. “As for Billy… Ryan, do you want to speak on him?”

“Sure.” Ryan swallows another bite and takes a gulp of coffee. “When Billy was a child he was soft and bright. Whip smart. Our sister Beth and her partner had taught him a lot about music, got him into reading. They watched him often. Took him to the beach, to the parks.”

“He was cultured,” Troye grins.

“Cultured, yes. Then it all changed.”

He refocuses on his breakfast plate, and Troye continues. “Our sister was lost to a drunk driver. Neil discovered the nature of Beth and Dawn, and projected his anger about that onto his son. Whatever inkling he had about Billy acting queer blew up. From that point on Neil blamed any quirks Billy demonstrated on Beth’s influence. She made him this way. ‘This way’ meaning--”

“Homosexual,” Rick finishes.

Troye and Ryan nod in sync. 

Having listened in silence until now, Sheriff Hopper is the first to clear his plate. “Neil had nothing to go by, though, did he? At least not until Max caught him fighting with his first serious boyfriend years later.”

“That was a dark time. Sparked their desire to move so suddenly.” Ryan looks at Rick. “Neil and Susan.”

Working it out in his head, Rick frowns. “So it wasn’t me. They left because of Billy.”

“That was the main piece. Neil mentioned you. We heard you weren’t doing well.”

“No,” he says. “Susan and I didn’t see eye to eye as parents. We kept that under wraps, mostly. During Max’s seventh grade year I lost my job, and my relationship with her mother went sour. I was up to my neck in booze, flappin around like a drownin man. Wasn’t no surprise she left. Neil promised what I couldn’t, treated her better than me. I understood, but I wasn’t gonna let my daughter go without a fight.” He sighs. “Dug myself a deeper hole. Sounds like your nephew did the same.”

“Good way to put it,” Ryan says.

The waitress swoops in and refills their mugs. Clinking cutlery around them comforts Rick. Sounds like fellowship after a meeting. Troye goes about fixing his coffee. A busboy clears the empty plates, leaving Ryan’s and Rick’s.

The sheriff says, “I saw that cultured side of Billy a couple times. Before he was arrested for crashing the car, and before he killed my kid.”

Days of conversation have taught Rick that his kids aren’t necessarily his. Sentiment runs deep with Sheriff Hopper, and it’s nice to know Max had him watching over her in Rick’s stead. “What’d you all talk about?”

“Music, like they said. Wide taste. Good opinions. He’s articulate, more than you’d think.”

Troye interjects. “Unfortunately that intelligence became belligerence. The softness and charm we adored about him became bitterness, hatred. By the time he was in high school you couldn’t look at him without sensing you’d done something wrong. He was on his best behavior around us, but--”

“It’s something you can feel,” Ryan finishes.

“It’s something you can feel. Hearing that Billy murdered a lover was shocking. Once we had time to reflect, we saw it added up.” Troye pauses, collecting himself. “In February Neil visited. I told him Ryan and I go to Adult Children of Alcoholics, suggested he try it. We would have loved to help him, and Billy. Our brother always kept his distance, and subsequently Billy did, too.”

“We had to give up trying,” Ryan elaborates. “It’s painful to watch people hurt when they don’t have to.”

“But you can’t hurt yourself waiting around for them to wake up,” the Sheriff chimes in.

The four fathers nod.

“I hope she’ll let me help her,” Rick worries. “Like hell, I’m prayin I can. Prayin that I’ll be up for it, that I can do for her what I couldn’t then, and what your brother wasn’t able to.”

“You’ll be able to,” the Sheriff says, reaching for his shoulder. “You will.”


End file.
